ヅяєď ѕмιℓєヅ
by StuckInMyOwnFiction
Summary: ShadowClan suffers a shock when one of their best warriors is murdered- right on RiverClan's border. Tensions are high, clans are taking sides, and the peace is disturbed. While ShadowClan is pointing the paw, however, the murderer is still out there. But what can one unofficial medicine cat apprentice do under the eyes of the mad medicine cat, his father, and his entire clan?
1. Prologue

The sound of paw-steps rung clear in the shadows of the heavily wooded forest; a dark tail lashed in the air, and agitation was clear in the tense muscles of the silky feline. His claws sheathed and unsheathed relentlessly, tearing at the damp ground with every step he took. Sharp golden-and-brown irises glared darkly ahead. The thickly wooded forest nearly hid the black tom, and if it were his intention, he could've concealed himself quite well. As it was, however, the tom did _not _want to hide, nor did he feel a need to. After all, He was walking in _his _territory, and he shouldn't have any reason to feel cautious. He was attempting to calm himself by taking a mid-sun high walk, though it didn't seem to be working.

For a while, it seemed as though the tom was going in circles; everything seemed the same, and he swore he passed that same rock before. The large cat only got more aggravated at the fact. There were a few toads croaking in the distance, and the tall, looming evergreens stayed dark an unchanging, giving no sign of giving way. However, just as the tom was starting to lose what little patience he had left, the dark trees started to get thinner and more open, and eventually, the trees all but ended. This seemed to calm the tom, who also stopped, eyes narrow as he came face-to-face with a wooden structure that opened into a bright, shimmering lake. The tom's eyes narrowed even further as he sat down right before the wood twoleg path, vibes of indignation and irritation coming off of him in waves. His head dipped as he focused on the rippling water below and the occasional fish that shimmered by. Sun rays dappled the clear water, causing bright colors to dance around in the lake below. Yellow smoothed out to a pale green that whirled into a dark blue as it got further from the sun.

The tom found himself relaxing, his shoulders drooping slightly and his tense muscles softening as the last rays of sun fell heavily on his back. The tom's narrowed and cloudy eyes started to clear, and when he looked up, he realized that the sun was sinking into the horizon, causing bright colors to dance in the sky. Blue seeped into a calming orange, which darkened into blood red. The lake started to turn darker, red and orange dappling the water beautifully. The tom, so caught in the moment, did not notice the cat slinking from behind, one dainty paws step in front of the next. He didn't notice the twisted smile on the other cat's maw, or the sharp gleam in their eyes as they spoke: "It's marvelous, isn't it?" The tom jumped and whirled around to face the other cat. He blinked in surprise, then his eyes narrowed. "_You," _He snarled, tensing even further. The other cat just tilted its head to the side, all traces of its previous, twisted expression gone. Instead, it had a deadpan look on its face, eyes blank. "Please, don't sound so _thrilled._" The black tomcat still glared. The other cat sighed, sitting opposite the angry tom daintily with its tail curling around itself. "I only came to talk," the cat explained with an exasperated and put-upon look on its face. The tom eyed the cat opposite him, then nodded stiffly. "Alright," he replied, sitting down again but not relaxing his rigid position.

"So," the other cat started with nonchalance, gaze flickering around the surrounding area, "what are you doing at the RiverClan border so near sundown?"

"What does it matter to you?" the tom shot back. The other cat tilted their head in compliance. "Well, it doesn't, really. Just seems- oh, I dunno, _suspicious_." At the tom's narrow glare the cat grinned crookedly and continued, "What, are you having a secret aff-"

"I thought you were here to _talk." _The tomcat interrupted rudely, clearly not in the mood for jokes.. The cat opposite the tom rolled its eyes. "That's what we're doing _now, _isn't it?"

The black tom growled darkly, patience quickly withering. "I'm leaving," he snarled. "This is mouse-brained."

The tom sat up to go, but the other cat stood as well and blocked his way, looking at him earnestly. "No... wait. I'm sorry. Come on, Pineshadow. I'm only kidding."

Pineshadow paused, then let out a heavy sigh. "Alright, fine." he ground out. Sitting down again and eyes flashing with impatience at the other cat, Pineshadow beckoned for the cat to continued, who sighed in relief. "Look... about... you know." Pineshadow waited for the cat - who's voice and expression were surprisingly begging- to continue.

"It's just... don't tell. Please. I mean, I-I really, _really _need to stay in the clan, you know? I'd be lost out there! A-And besides, it was only a one- a one time thing." Pineshadow narrowed his eyes, all shreds of patience lost.

"You listen to _me,_" he snapped irritably. "this _one time thing _cost you. You may not be aware, but cats were _hurt. _I_ can't_ just... let it _slide _because it was a _one time thing _and you _asked me politely._ You were responsible for _your own actions. _I had nothing to do with it, and I owe you _nothing. _So don't bother _asking. _I'm leaving. Don't follow me- in fact, do yourself a favor and don't come back _at all. _The clan is better off without you." With those scalding words, Pineshadow stood once more and started to leave, brushing past the other cat with a grim satisfaction heavy in his stomach. However, before he could go forward four steps, an angry yowl startled him. He didn't have time to turn around to face his attacker, and he felt claws connect with his neck, running down his back and spine. For a minute, all Pineshadow could see was white. Then the white faded, and instead, his sight returned... but so did the onslaught of _pain_: in his neck, in his back, in his spine. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt_ it hurt it hurt ithurt ithurt ithurtithurtithurtithurt_. The tom tried to scream, but metalic blood filled his lungs, so instead he made an awful sort of gurgling sound. He was aware of collapsing and writhing on the damp ground, blood pooling from his body and dripping into the lake. His eyes whirled around in their sockets, searching frantically for his assailant. He locked onto the eyes of assaulter, cold and full of hate, hunger, satisfaction and- was that _amusement? _Pineshadow tried to glare at the cat, if only for a last act of defiance. "You..." he gurgled out around the thick blood in his throat.

His attacker's head was tilted to the side, spectating the scene before them. Then, the cat spoke. It was chilling, how normal it sounded- as if it were genuinely surprised at themselves. "Oh- oh no! Was that- was that _me? _I'm _so _sorry! I'll go get a medicine cat right away!" There was a sick, bubbling laugh in the other cat's words near the end that sent shivers down Pineshadow's spine.

He twitched, splotches of black covering his eyes. "You know," his attacker spoke, nonchalantly licking the blood off of their paw, "it_is such _a shame. I thought you would be more... reasonable... hmm. Well, at least the kill was satisfying. You always _were _such a fox-hearted tom, loyal to StarClan first and the clan second." The cat paused, looking at their now-clean paw contemplatively before they said, "I really _am _sorry. This'll cause an even _bigger _diversity in the clan but... oh, well." The cat smirked at Pineshadow, whose eyes were starting to glaze. The other cat stood up with a twitch of its ear and padded over to the tom. "Oh, and Pineshadow?" the cat purred, leaning close to the tom's ear. "Don't tell anyone. _Please._" With that last, mocking simper, the cat straightened and padded daintily away, tail in the air as though nothing had happened. A chuckle worked its way up in the retreating cat's throat, and it slowly bubbled forth. The chuckle broke into a louder laugh, and fairly soon the murderer was laughing hysterically.

Pineshadow never had heard those last words his attacker had told him. He was dead, in his own pool of red.

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**AN: Hey, that rhymed! :D**

**Well, there you have it. My first story ^.^ Anyone up to beta-ing it? For some reason, I'm not entirely pleased about the pacing of this chapter... I'll try to do better next chapter, where we'll meet our protagonists. Hope you enjoyed ... and, uh, by the way-**

**Disclaimer: I do not, and never will, own Warriors. However, in the same universe that I'm a two-headed golden unicorn with butterfly wings and a lizard tail with powers of the elements, I have complete ownership over Warriors.**


	2. Chapter 1 - Darkness -

"_What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal."_

**_-_Albert Pike**

* * *

Death is an odd thing.

Death, the inevitable outcome of living, is the the most certain thing in life, and the most uncertain. It is the most mourned thing in existence, but is celebrated by those individuals who still breath, eat, and drink. Death is everywhere, and whether it claims a kit still in it's mother's womb or a well-aged elder, it lurks like a thin fog over the clans. Death is an odd thing, and none knew better than Grousepaw.

Grousepaw was a small marble tom, with bright, gleaming brown irises and fluffy fur. His tail was long, thick, and slightly curled, and his ears were round. At the present moment, he was slinking back into camp, a clump of catmint stuffed into his maw. Mouth watering, Grousepaw deliberately swallowed, being sure not to take any of the catmint with his saliva. He hurried through camp and to the medicine den, a rotten pine tree dug in to make a small burrow. Grousepaw wiggled inside the small opening, popping his head up when he entered. He was immediately assaulted by the musky smell that always hung around the den, weakly veiled by the scent of herbs and sick. There was an ever-present hint of the copper smelling blood lingering in the air, and Grousepaw found himself wrinkling his nose. He trotted over to the left side of the den, shifting around the bitter and unorganized herbs to find where the catmint was usually kept. Once he did, he set it down in a neat pile, knowing that if he didn't, Rivereyes would have a fit- even though Grousepaw knew that soon enough, the medicine cat would make a mess of it. Speaking of which...

Grousepaw swiveled his head around, realizing that the old cat was gone. Sighing in relief, he sat up from where he sat and headed towards the entrance- only to be knocked down violently as Rivereyes came darting in. Yowling in surprise, Grousepaw found himself tumbling backwards. When he finally found his footing, he was looking into the not-quite-there river blue eyes of Rivereyes.

She was easily the largest cat in the entire clan: her legs were thick and long, her head square and ears broad. Her shoulders were wide, and her paws were giant. She nearly touched the top of the den, and her rippling muscles were easily seen through her short, pure white fur. At the moment, she was grinning wildly, and when she saw Grousepaw, he grin only widened. "Gousepaw! Lovely to see you here. Did'ja you get that catmint I asked you to? 'Course you did, you have nothing else to do. 'Ow's that paw? No thorns this time? Good!" Rivereyes's accented voice rung annoyingly in the air. Grousepaw had never worked out where exactly she was from- sometimes she had a city-cat accent, especially when excited, and other times she was clear and clipped, and even had the slight articulation of the Tribes occasionally. Grousepaw just assumed it was all a part of her all-around ature of being quite mad.

He sighed, already accustomed to Rivereyes's self-answering nature. Mumbling a 'hey', Grousepaw attempted to leave the medicine den, but Rivereyes was having none of it. Stepping in front of him, she tilted her head. "Actually, I need ya." she informed him. Resisting the urge to glare at her, Grousepaw nodded and sat down himself. He combatted the urge to fidget as silence reigned in the the small den. Rivereyes was solemn, which worried Grousepaw even further.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Hoping to end the silence, Grousepaw started, "Ssssoo-"

"I need dog saliva." Grousepaw promptly choked.

"I'm sorry?" he managed, looking extremely confused. Rivereyes grinned again, her eyes gaining their other-worldly spark. "I said I need dog saliva! This early in green-leaf, we're bound to have the green-heart, ya know. This time I'll be prepared! I wus tryin' to figure out what it was - ya know, detective-like and all- an' I found that the the possible reason for the rash is because'a _dirt!"_

"...dirt."

"Well, mud, mouse droppings, dirt, etcetera etcetera. See, ShadowClan has a tendency to pick swampy, moist places. The dirt place is full of infections easily gained, so it's good in leaf-bare 'cause iss all froze up, but when all of the frost and snow melts... _BAM!" _Startled, Grousepaw jumped at Rivereyes's sudden exclamation. "The infection spreads!" Despite Rivereyes's loud explanation, Grousepaw was interested, though he attempted to hide the fact by grooming down his ruffled fur.

For as long as Grousepaw could remember, ShadowClan had been assaulted by a sickness during greenleaf and newleaf. It was a rash that festered from the chest and spread across the internal organs, spreading until it reached the heart and slowly killed its victim. Thus it gained its the name of the green-heart sick.

When Grousepaw had been five moons old, the infection had flared dangerously within the clan, and had claimed his own sister and mother. For the longest time, he had been quarantined in the very den he sat in, just in case the h e had also caught infection. His apprentice ceremony had been postponed, and he had stayed in the musky old medicine den for three moons. Being restless and healthy, he had helped Rivereyes taking care of the others who came, all for a futile cause- they had died by the start of the next leaf-fall. Shockingly, Grousepaw never contacted the sickness, and since then, even though he had his own mentor, he had been the unofficial medicine cat apprentice.

Sighing, Grousepaw lifted his head from his grooming. "That doesn't make sense," he replied, after some consideration. "After all, the green-heart sick isn't exactly known amongst the clans; it only started happening ten moons prior to when I was born. ShadowClan moved to the lakes thirty-two moons before that, so it's a bit spontaneous that it popped up because of waste and improper hygiene." Grousepaw paused thoughtfully. "Though I have to ask. Say that dirt was the reason for the green-heart. Why dog saliva?" Rivereyes looked was strangely contemplating, a look that Grousepaw had learned long ago not to expect too often from her. "I was passing the twoleg place, and I noticed two farm cats- one of 'em was hurt, large claw marks down 'er side. Other one was asking what to get her, all panicky-like. 'Dog saliva! It'll stop the infection' the she-cat said, and then the tom ran to get it. Don' know how he managed it, but he did, an' came back with a leaf dripping with the stuff. Rubbed it on the she-cat's wound and you should'a seen her. Right as rain! Hobbled onto her paws and trotted off, as though nothing 'ad happened. So, attes'ing to my theory, if I used dog saliva, i' should be good enough to clear the rash!...Still, I s'ppose you're right." Rivereyes was quiet, wild blue gaze darting around the den relentlessly. She opened her maw to speak, but there was a wild yowl from outside. Rivereyes moved quickly out of the way of the den entrance and Grousepaw suddenly was on the ground for the third time that day. Groaning, the apprentice righted himself in time to see Whitewhisker, a very recent warrior, doing the same thing. He barely spared Grousepaw a glance as he rounded on Rivereyes, eyes wild and breaths coming in heavy pants. "Ri-Rivereyes, th-thank StarClan you're here... i's... i's..." Whitewhisker swallowed and straightened. "Pineshadow... h-he... it's... river..." the poor tom clearly was having trouble finding his words, fumbling over them and shaking himself repeatedly. He was trembling, and his young eyes were misty. "Well? Get on with it." Grousepaw snapped, feeling no pity for the tom. "What? Did old Pine get another thorn in his paw?" Whitewhisker snapped out of his daze at these words, shooting Grousepaw a heated glare. He opened his maw to retort, but Rivereyes stepped in front of Grousepaw, tail held erect to signal silence. "Enough, Grousepaw. What happened, Whitewhisker?" Her misty blue eyes turned upon the young warrior, whose head bowed. His voice trembled when he spoke, and the words he said didn't even register to Grousepaw at first. He sat there, blinking at Rivereyes broad back, before it sunk in. He didn't remember getting onto his paws, only the horrible sensation in his stomach as he tore out of the den and through camp, Rivereyes not far ahead of him. He was barely noticed the sun was low in the horizon, shadows looming overhead. Wind rushed past his ears, his paws hitting the ground with a _smack. _

He ran so fast he almost passed Rivereyes, jumping over roots and stepping on firm ground, moons of living in swampy ShadowClan territory paying off as he made his way to the wooden twoleg path that marked the end of ShadowClan territory. He came to a halt as he saw the wide expanse of the lake, dyed an exquisite red from the vibrant sunset in the horizon. In the darkness, he could not see anything- shadows dyed the ground black, and the trees looming overhead did nothing to dispel the ominous feeling. If not for the group of cats surrounding an unmoving lump easily mistaken for a log, he would have passed the scene off as normal. As it was, however, Grousepaw's stomach gurgled uncomfortably, and he moved forward towards the group, even though his heavy paws protested against the movement. Rivereyes had already reached the group, and was showcasing her prowess as a medicine cat. Pushing the group away, Grousepaw moved besides her. He was instantly hit with the coppery smell of blood, and he had to swallow a gag. He didn't want to see the body. He didn't want to do anything, so he watched Rivereyes- her swift movement and soft mutterings as she bowed and muzzled Pineshadow's black pelt. There was silence when, sitting up, Rivereyes spoke. "We should get him back to camp," she told the patrol softly. Subdued mutterings of agreement were her answer. Grousepaw nodded as well, his eyes firmly resting on the medicine cat. "Grousepaw, help me with this." He felt his stomach plummet to the floor at Rivereyes's words, swallowing loudly. He didn't protest, but his stomach did, gurgling uncomfortably as he took a step closer. He felt his way around to the carcass slowly, his steps deliberate. He never took his eyes off of his mentor, but when he reached the body of the previous warrior, his eyes couldn't stop themselves from looking down at the body.

_Oh. _

His stomach was protesting _hard _now, wrapping itself into tight knots. Blood was _everywhere- _glistening in the quickly disappearing sun, sleeking down the toms black fur. Where the hair was torn away by vicious claws, Grousepaw could see the wound. Going across his neck and cutting deep, the claw marks opened a wound that touched bone. Pineshadow had clearly been there for a while, as the wound was starting to be infected, a pussy substance covering the wounds that had long stopped bleeding. The former warrior would have suffered before death.

Grousepaw pushed back his bodily protests and bent low, grabbing the scruff of the deceased tomcat. Soon he and Rivereyes were making their way to camp, the body in their maws. His vision was obscured by the thick black fur, and his scent glands attacked by the horrible smell of coppery blood and sickly infection. He resisted the urge to swallow, attempting to focus on the job only.

_Squelch. _

Grousepaw faltered as his paw sunk into something sticky and warm.

_Blood. _

He felt sick, his throat burning and his stomach burbling uncomfortably. Tears stung at his eyes, but he didn't release them. He concentrated on the job.

_The job, the job, the job._

That was all this was, after all. He had to be cold, distant- he was going to be a future warrior of the clan! He couldn't break down like a ThunderClan she-cat.

_The job, the job, the jo-_

_**Squelch.**_

His paw once again met the sticky substance, and his stomach gurgled even more, his throat burned as though acid had been poured down it, and it became a battle to hold back the tears.

_This is Pineshadow- no, this is a job. A job._

Grousepaw suddenly remembered the time when he first had seen the big tom he was holding in his maw, lugging across the darkening forest.

He remembered being in such _awe _of him, watching Pineshadow smile and joke with his father. He himself never really interacted with the large tom in such a friendly way, but he knew that the warrior had been temperamental, only ever smiling and laughing around his mate, who died during the last green-heart outbreak, and Grousepaw's father.

_His job. His father's friend. His job. Pineshadow._

He remembered the day Pineshadow became his mentor; it was sweltering hot, and cats were still wary of Grousepaw since he had just come out of the medicine cat den a mere few days earlier. Still, when Pineshadow had stepped forward to accept his place, his eyes had gleamed with determination.

_His mentor. His job. Pineshadow. Pineshadow._

Grousepaw didn't realise he was back in camp until he saw Rivereyes stop abruptly and he quickly followed suit. They simultaneously set the limp figure down.

Immediately, Grousepaw darted to the outskirts of camp, emptying the contents of his stomach until he was retching dryly. He felt weak on his paws, his body shaking with unbidden sobs. He felt choked, and he was painfully aware of Pineshadow's blood on his paws and chest.

The old tom would probably discourage such an act of weakness, Grousepaw knew. He had been a ShadowClan warrior, through-and-through, and he had always been loyal. He'd been bitter, sure, and never had treated Grousepaw very well, but he had been one of the clan. He had been his father's best friend, and he had never deserved to die. Still, Grousepaw couldn't entirely blame his reaction on the fact that Pineshadow had died - Grousepaw never would admit it, but his stomach was extremely weak, so when copious amounts of blood was in the general vicinity, he became a retching, choking mess. Breathing deeply, Grousepaw looked up, dimly aware that some of the clan was watching him.

He saw his father, out of his den, looking at Pineshadow with a sort of blank expression. Then, slowly, the tom closed his eyes and padded over to his fallen friend. He bowed his head low, letting his muzzle brush over Pineshadow's head.

Grousepaw swallowed another wave of nausea, padding over to sit by his father.

It was silent, but that was normal. In ShadowClan, when a warrior died, the clan gathered around the fallen cat and blessed their way to StarClan. Then, the deceased's family, apprentice/mentor, and the leader sat vigil until the sun rose in the horizon. Then the elders took the body way. If the death were natural, in honor of the dead warrior, the clan would not mention the death for two sunhighs. If the death was dishonourable, the clan would wait one sunhigh before addressing the problem.

Sighing, Grousepaw bowed his head along with his father, blessing Pineshadow's ascent to StarClan. He watched numbly as the clan followed suit.

Then it was just Grousepaw, his father, and Silverclaw, Pineshadow's mother.

The rest of the sun disappeared behind the horizon, leaving ShadowClan in darkness.

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**Please R 'n R!**


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